


Not That Kind of Alien...

by spiritofsnows



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, ill-advised midnight adventures, it took me a year to write this and i'm mad about it, silly and fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 00:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20666321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritofsnows/pseuds/spiritofsnows
Summary: A moment in the life of four funky space dudes, who maybe have just a little bit too much free time





	Not That Kind of Alien...

**Author's Note:**

> This fic relies heavily on visual elements to distinguish between speaking characters. If you're using a screen reader, I'm really sorry and I am doing a lot of googling.  
Relatedly: no, at no point while writing this did I make any decisions about how Havve and Phobos communicate.
> 
> Unrelatedly: if you're reading this and you're in it, We Need To Talk.

A dream. He was dreaming of a Lady. A Lady walking toward him on a beach. A beach on a distant planet, pale pink sand soft under his hands, twin suns setting warm and low over the sparkling water. She spoke to him, and said,

“Sung.”

That… was not what he expected her to sound like but that was fine, Ladies are lovely and diverse. She said,

“Dude, wake up.”

And the ground slipped out from beneath him, soft sand dissolving in his hands. 

“Whaaa…?”

He opened his eye to see Meouch’s face roughly six inches from his own.

“Holy shit!”

Meouch leaned back sharply, allowing him enough space to see that his other two bandmates we also in the room.

“Dude, stop yelling and put some pants on. We’re doing crop circles.”

“But it’s like three in the--” He stopped and thought for a second:

Meouch: cat, semi-nocturnal

Havve: robot, technically does not need sleep

Phobos: ... Phobos

“Nevermind.”

* * *

A pair of pants and a few minutes of walking later, they reached their apparent destination. Meouch surveyed the field for a moment before gesturing grandly at it. Phobos ducked out of the way of his out flung arm with the ease of long practice. 

“This! Is the field!” Meouch announced. 

‘The field where you grow your fucks?’ Phobos asked.

“No, Phobos, that field is barren, this one obviously has grass. And… stuff.”

Under the light of the nearly full moon, the overgrown field looked ghostly and horror movie chic.

‘Sure.’ 

Meouch looked sharply at Phobos. “What's that supposed to mean?” 

‘I don't know what you're talking about’ 

LORD PHOBOS IS IMPLYING THAT YOU ARE NOT A COOL GUY THAT GIVES NO FUCKS. I AGREE.

It actually wasn't a bad spot for crop circles, great vibes, but…

“Hey, my dudes?” 

“Jeeze, just come for my life next time. Just because I have strong opinions about cat food brands doesn't mean I am not still, in essence, a cool guy who gives no fucks. We all have preferences.”

‘You threw a box of Friskies out the window.’ 

“We said we’d never speak of this!”

‘_You _ said we’d never speak of this’

“Guys!” 

The argument ground to a halt as all three of them turned to stare at Sung. 

“Gods, why do none of you blink? I mean, how the heck are we gonna make a crop circle?”

Meouch opened his mouth, then closed it. He made a face. “I. Did not get that far.” 

Sung resisted the urge to facepalm.

TRADITIONALLY ONE USES A SPACECRAFT, Havve informed them.

“Not gonna work,” Meouch cut in. “She's still outta go juice.” 

‘Steal from Nasa?’ 

“Inspired,” Sung answered, “But extremely illegal.” 

“If we have Havve just Look at it, it might all die and that's kinda like a crop circle?”

Havve turned his unblinking death stare on Meouch, who inched a little closer to Phobos.

Havve was starting to get creaky again. Did he leave the oil in the workshop or the kitchen? He really hoped it wasn’t the kitchen, but it would explain a few things...

‘Well…' Phobos interrupted his train of thought, 'There was this documentary that was on once when it was just me at home and they did it by getting a board and some rope and-’ 

“The Power Of Rock And Roll, ” Meouch interrupted, firmly putting his hand on Phobos's shoulder. “I think we should use the power of rock'n'roll.” 

“Yes! An excellent plan, commander! Phobos, would you do the honors? ”

Phobos did that little head wiggle that probably meant he was rolling his eyes at them and shrugged Meouch's hand off his shoulder. He waded out into the knee high grass of the field, resettled his guitar, and set his fingers to the strings

* * *

The sight that greeted Sung upon returning from his morning run two days later was Not Quite Right. He assessed the kitchen:

Havve was flipping through the paper: normal.

Phobos was eating cereal at a slightly uncomfortable velocity: also normal.

Out of a bowl balanced precariously on Meouch’s midsection: ah, that’s what it was.

“You’re up early.”

Meouch dramatically flopped a paw over the edge of the table. “Sung. I have good news... and I have bad news.”

“Oh no.”

“The good news is that we’ve made it into the local news. Phobos did an amazing job.”

Havve rustled the paper at him. There on the cover was their crop circle. 

Crop shape. 

It was a crop dick. Phobos made a crop dick.

“That’s pretty sweet and very not appropriate for young children! What’s the bad news?”

“The bad news…”

Phobos smoothly moved his bowl out of the way as Meouch flailed his way into a sitting position.

“The bad news is that the neighbor lady Knows. She came by to judge us while you were out.”

‘She can’t prove anything’

“That’s not too bad?”

“Well. The other bad news is that you left Havve’s oil in here and now the toaster has Opinions and none of them are a desire to make me toast.”

'Some of them might be a desire for kitchen domination,' Phobos volunteered.

"Fuck." 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
I'm sorry about the formatting!  
The google doc this fic started in was created on October 21, 2018. It hasn't been a year yet. I've won.


End file.
